Caught
by little-starling
Summary: AU, wherein Giles intervenes in Willow's headlong dive into magic a lot sooner. Set sometime around season 2. Contains mild/moderate corporal punishment. Feedback appreciated.


No copyright infringement intended.

 **Trigger warning** : Contains corporal punishment in the form of spanking; now's your chance to hit back.

Reviews are considered most kind and will be answered. Thanks for reading.

.

.

.

The silken pages, yellowed and gilded with gold at their edges, were as fragile as to be almost transparent, making Willow's attempt to discern the clustered text in the muted library light a strain not only to her eyes but also to her overstretched nerves.

The finest tremble affected her usually steady hand as she carefully revealed the next page, the whisper of the paper and her excited breath really the only sounds to be heard above the constant hum of electric table lights.

The library was, in an uncommon confluence of circumstances, entirely her own for the evening. With demonic and vampiric activity taking a rare break, the gang were enjoying an equally rare Friday evening to themselves. Hastily made plans were excitedly drawn up when Giles had finally given his slayer consent to enjoy the downtime, plans which Willow had begged off with the speedily concocted excuse of half-finished extra credit assignments.

A surge of nervous, guilty energy drew her eyes, not for the first time, from the Olde English words before her to the double doors behind her and then to the dark corners of the stacks. The high half-moon windows did little to illuminate the shadows, showing only the blackness of a night well underway. A quick glance at her watch confirmed it; eight forty seven. No doubt the Bronze was close to reaching its weekend capacity by now, her friends contributing to its commercial success.

And Giles…?

Well, Willow wasn't sure what a forty-something Watcher and Librarian did when not actively involved in both of those occupations, but the important point was he wasn't doing it _there_. A deep breath seemed to help with the burst of anxiousness that accompanied that conclusion.

The rebellious excitement of doing something she oughtn't hadn't materialised for her – as she had naively hoped. The only thing keeping her in her chair and not bolting for the hollow safety of home was the equal thrill of forbidden knowledge laid out for her consumption before her.

She had, of course, been aware of the secret location of the tomes, codexes and compendiums for quite some time. She was nothing if not observant and tenacious. On the very few occasions she had been allowed supervised access to their laden pages, a necessary concession made by the Watcher in light of apocalyptic disaster, she had worked with a dual purpose. Contributing to the solution was always paramount, of course, but her insatiable curiosity and thirst for _more_ were responsible for the carefully folded and shiftily hidden notes she left with each time.

Giles was not an idiot, of course, and her need to demonstrate her newly acquired knowledge partnered with her ability to speak without due thought had almost landed her in hot water with him, twice now. The first had resulted in little more than a disapproving frown and carefully worded caution before more serious matters had distracted them both. The most recent, though, had left a more definite impression.

It had been an uncomfortable experience, suddenly being on the receiving end of the man's undivided attention and penetrating, seemingly all-knowing, stare. She recalled his voice, laced with displeasure while taking her to task and all she could think was how disappointing it was not to bask in his praise instead. Gone had been the docile, stuttering librarian and in his place the life-hardened, wizened Watcher. Disconcerting didn't cover it.

A subtle buzz of annoyance and resentment shimmied through her as she recalled her nervous, stuttered assurances. She was ready for more! How many times did she have to prove herself a capable and responsible witch before he would take the training wheels off? It wasn't fair.

She tapped the pencil she held against her notes agitatedly, the noise seeming loud in the quiet of the large room. Willow pursed her lips, tilting her head in concession to her next thoughts. Ok, so maybe setting her bedcovers on fire hadn't been the wisest move, nor had shattering the vase on her mother's dining room table, or narrowly avoiding a missing finger when a ball of energy she'd generated suddenly imploded between her hands. Three days later she was still getting occasional bouts of painful pins and needles from that particular incident.

Her gusty sigh ruffled the edges of a thin book at her elbow. This was ridiculous, she thought. After all her careful planning and much shoring of courage, here she was wracked with so much guilt and doubt that the very object of her evening escapade lay forgotten in precarious, wobbly stacks around her.

She chewed her lip as she ran her appreciative eyes over the aged, well-worn leather bindings. In the stillness of the space around her she could feel, more than ever, the lure of their secrets. Letting her eyes slip closed she surrendered to the heady pull, whatever fledgling magic she possessed flickering like a candle - drawn to the mystical energy emanated not by paper and weathered leather, but by the tempting whisper of thousands of rituals and spells crowded together.

It was a physical awareness to her, a particular power and heat and need her adolescent body and mind could not put a name to as yet, nor draw any comparisons, but enticing and compelling enough to draw her here despite her usual docile, rule-abiding nature. Her pupils dilated under the slew of sensation, the pencil in her hand coming to rest under a dotted cloud of lead marks her agitated tapping had produced just moments ago.

She glanced down at the page, feeling calmer, satisfied with the concise penmanship that listed dozens of new incantations and spells. Some were complex, frightening even, but as she had no assurances that she may again have the chance, Willow reasoned that stocking up on more advanced conjuring was only sensible. She may not be ready now, but, she was confident, it would not be long before…

"Willow?"

Willow jumped and turned so quickly that the blood that should have suffused her cheeks at being caught instead drained at lightning speed to pool somewhere around her feet. She swayed dizzily for a moment, her eyes huge in her face as she stared incredulously at Giles, standing just inside the double doors.

Her stomach swooped lazily as finally the flow of blood reversed, staining her face and neck a burning pink.

" _G-Giles_?" She squeaked, her breathing becoming tight and rushed as she watched the man's confused thoughts pass across his face. She backed up a step when he began forward, his steps seeming measured.

"Willow, what are you doing here? Has something happened?" was the Watcher's first concerned question, logical when one lived atop a Hellmouth, she supposed. His slow advance was affecting her ability to think, increasing her nerves and anxiety to the point where she almost wished the school library had been breached by a vampire. Surely she wouldn't feel quite so ill facing the undead.

"What? No, no, nothing's happened. At least I don't think it has. Maybe? I mean this is Sunnydale we're talking about – big land of the bad happenings. And, hello? Hellmouth! S-so, yeah, maybe there could be b-bad stuff going on, I mean we can't just assume, can we? I mean, we, uh, shouldn't, right?"

Realising she was shifting her weight agitatedly from one foot to the other, Willow cemented her shoes to the stone floor and smiled unconvincingly at the imposing figure now standing directly before her. Giles' expressive features showed confusion and concern as he studied her intently, and the hand that he laid gently on her right bicep to calm her nervous ramblings had quite the opposite effect.

Willow jumped at the touch, as though her whole body had become an oversensitive nerve. Her hip bumped the table behind her sending a short stack of priceless books tumbling sideways, bringing both of their attentions to the messy table top. Willow sprang into action, turning her back to hastily gather the abused tomes, her shaking hands a blur as she attempted to hide the evidence of her clandestine activities.

"I,I'm sorry, they're fine. No crinkled pages or anything. Say, did you need something? Cause I can totally help." she asked, her rushed voice wobbling only slightly over the sound of rustling paper.

Giles hadn't said another word, though his presence behind her was oppressive. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of his fingers landing on the edge of her yellow legal notepad and instinctively shot out her own hand to stop him. But she was too late. Her stomach performed another sickening roll as she slowly turned, unable to see his eyes beneath the glare of lamplight reflected in his glasses as he bent his head over her notes. He no longer looked confused though, she noted.

"It's, it's not what you think, Giles. I was just, I mean I know you don't want me learning this stuff, but, but it's like future research, you know? Getting prepared for the next big bad? And…"

"Be quiet."

Willow closed her mouth with a little snap, her dry swallow difficult as she rose wary, over large eyes to the man before her.

Giles' own mouth had hardened into a thin line as he frowned down at the words and diagrams sketched out in pencil, his thumb smudging a small doodle of hearts in the top left corner in a deliberate swipe. He shook his head once, looking almost pained, before dropping the legal pad against his leg with a dull thump at the same time as he whipped his glasses off. Two fingers massaged the skin between his eyes as he spoke, his spectacles hanging precariously from the same hand.

"Is this the first time you've done this?" he finally asked, each word clipped and gravelly, demanding the truth.

Willow nodded eagerly, her bright copper hair bouncing. She was unaware of the fact she was again shifting from foot to foot, like a child waiting to use the bathroom, an image made all the more believable by the colourful cotton dungarees she wore.

"Yes! I swear, Giles. I, I didn't think that…" she began earnestly, her whole being thrown into conveying sincerity and honesty.

"No, Willow, I don't believe you did think; about anything other than this self-indulgent need to defy my instructions and imperil your own and others safety!"

The words left his mouth like a whip, any and all of his usual gentleness replaced with a frighteningly knowing glare that changed his face completely as he finally opened his eyes. Willow, caught up in the unrelenting stare could do little but fidget, her delicate hands wringing together before her. Her throat tightened uncomfortably and sinuses stung as she felt the alarming and embarrassing portents of impending tears.

"Answer me truthfully; have you attempted any of these castings?" he demanded, his accented words carrying a smidgeon less bite as he registered the watery glint to Willow's eyes following his barked accusation, the yellow notepad held aloft.

"None of those ones, no." She answered immediately; anxiety, intimidation and exhaustion helping the instinctive honesty spill from her lips.

Giles stilled suddenly, straightening as he carefully slipped his glasses back atop his nose and lowered the notepad to rest on the table top, every movement economised and precise. The tension ratcheted up a thousand fold with the simple motions.

"Not these. But others?" he whispered ominously, the muscles flexing around his jaw. Willow's breath hitched, thinking back on her words and what they implied. She knew she couldn't take them back, or deny the truth of his conclusion. She also knew she couldn't bear to maintain eye contact when the face looking back at her was infused with so much raw concern, frustration and knowledge of her transgressions.

She felt like an overstretched guitar string, taunt with so much pressure that the slightest contact would break her. Panic, fight or flight mode, desperation; whatever label one wanted to attach to her sudden need to escape the confines of the library and his presence amounted to the same thing. She needed out. Now.

"I, I need to go." She announced suddenly, turning quickly away from Giles and reaching across the table to swipe her schoolbag, ignoring the notepaper and previously desired texts.

The pressure of a hand between her shoulder blades, keeping her flat to the table had barely registered before a crack rang out in the hollow, silent space around her. The sharp sting across one side of her backside followed swiftly on its heels, forcing a shocked gasp from her. The second impact morphed the sting into a burning pulse and she struggled instinctively, the higher portion of her brain recognising what was happening whilst the more primal levels demanded she simply remove herself from the source of pain.

"N-no!" she whimpered, pushing against the smooth surface beneath her hands.

Her struggles were for nought, though, having no traction whatsoever in her position and only a fraction of the strength the Watcher possessed. By the sixth time Giles' large hand had snapped across the thin cotton covering her burning posterior, she gave up her efforts and gave in to the tears, burying her face in the crook of her arm. Two more stinging smacks followed, the last delivered with additional, parting enthusiasm before hands were lifting and turning her, holding her on her feet.

" _Ow_ , _ow_ , G-Giles…" she complained, her face screwed up against her discomfort and tears, voice nasally and quivering with choked breaths. She was shifting agitatedly again, trying to escape or relieve the still developing burn across her seat. With his hands wrapped gently around her biceps, Willow's bent arms left her own hands beneath her chin, making it easier to hide her face and pull her head, turtle like, further between her bunched shoulders.

Giles' gusty sigh sounded just before his hands released her and instead wrapped around her back, pulling her unresisting body to his chest.

" _Foolish child_. Sshhhh." With her too hot face pressed against the rough material of his tweed jacket, she felt the rumble of his quiet words more than she heard them.

"I, I'm _s-sorry_!" she hiccupped, the words triggering a fresh batch of tears. She couldn't recall a time in her life where she had felt more wretched or vulnerable or embarrassed. It seemed an evening for new experiences, including what had just transpired.

The hand that had moments ago caused such discomfort was now, it seemed, holding her fragile self together; rhythmically gliding in warm strokes up and down her twitching back while the other cradled the base of her skull.

"Yes, I'm quite sure you are. Remember this experience, Willow. Recall the consequences of putting yourself unduly at risk; of lying to your friends and to me; of meddling with forces you _cannot yet comprehend_ if the urge should once again prove irresistible." He intoned; his cultured voice devoid of its previous strained undertones and familiar again to Willow's ears, despite the warning it carried.

They stood that way for long minutes, Giles swaying minutely as he waited for his young charge to calm. Despite the fact she was standing, her weight against him increased incrementally as exhaustion melted the stiffness from previously tense muscles. When the tears and tremors had ceased completely, he slid his hands to her arms and pulled her to arm's length, dipping his head to gaze at her across the tops of his glasses.

Willow's damp face was flushed with heat and embarrassment, her swollen eyes twitching across his face, unable to maintain eye contact for more than a heartbeat. She absently wondered if she could ever be comfortable in his presence again, the thought nearly enough to set her off once more. She obediently stepped backwards at his direction and sunk into the wooden chair, unable to contain a soft noise of surprised complaint when her backside came into contact with the hard surface, reigniting her blush as well as the heat.

The appearance of a linen handkerchief before her distracted her from the discomfort and she spent the next few moments self-consciously cleaning her face. Giles had disappeared into his office, granting her a moment of privacy, time she spent staring morosely into space, a thousand half formed thoughts and fears clouding with a bone weary tiredness in her mind. He reappeared, after an indeterminate amount of time to Willow, holding a steaming mug which he placed atop the accursed notepad at her elbow.

"Tea, with honey. Try to drink it all when it cools a little." He instructed, lifting a chair and placing it catty corner to her.

The mug gave her something other than him to focus on, even if it did include the smudged pencil beneath. Every third or fourth breath still hitched a little, despite her efforts to stop it.

"I won't apologise for taking you to task, Willow. I'm only sorry that I was blind to the hold magic had already taken of you and didn't intervene sooner. Something that will unequivocally be addressed now." There was resolve and regret in equal measure in his voice, easier to distinguish to Willow now that his tone and manner were returned to what she was accustomed to. Familiar and comforting to her frayed nerves, despite his words.

"Which leads rather nicely to my next point; every day, after classes, you will report to the Library with Buffy. While I train with her you will complete whatever homework assignments you have and afterwards; I will work with you on your knowledge of and progress with magic."

Willow finally lifted her gaze to stare at him in astonishment. Disbelief, hope and wonder warred to take the dominant expression.

"You, you still want to…I m-mean even after? You would still…?" She stuttered, the rasp in her voice causing Giles to indicate the untouched tea with a meaningful nod.

Her hand shook as she lifted the still steaming mug and she felt his larger hand cover her own as she lifted the rim to her lips, steading her grip.

"Careful." He murmured, waiting till she had taken a few hesitant mouthfuls before setting it back for her. It was hot, sweet and soothing; mana from the gods for her scratchy throat and unacknowledged thirst.

"Willow, magical ability isn't something one suddenly develops through study alone; it is something one is born with, a reservoir of raw potential which one can choose to develop. You've clearly demonstrated you possess such talent; to say nothing of your irrepressible desire to expand your knowledge and skill." He looked at the haphazard assembly of books beside them meaningfully; causing a light blush to arise on Willow's pale-again face. Giles leaned forward, elbows on knees and studied her carefully.

"Such desires are not exceptional and neither are they unhealthy – unless you allow them to supersede your usual good sense and endanger both yourself and those around you. I believe I've expressed my feelings on that direction quite thoroughly." He remarked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

An awkward shift in her seat brought the evidence of his displeasure in the form of a dull throb. She winced a little, hiding it and her embarrassment beneath a curtain of hair as she looked down at her lap.

"Indeed. Believe me when I tell you that I took no pleasure in delivering such a reprimand, especially to you. But as your parents are, quite rightly, unaware of your… _extra-curricular activities_ , the responsibility for your guardianship in such matters falls naturally to me. I would be a poor guardian indeed if I did not take steps to ensure your safety, most especially from your own youthful folly. Steps I will have no hesitation in taking again if you should feel the need to indulge in teenage recklessness. Do I make myself clear?"

Willow spared a lightning thought for the Hellmouth directly below their feet and wondered why it only opened at the most inopportune of times, and not when she needed it to the most, like right then. Taking a shaky breath for courage, she lifted her head to meet his gaze and jerkily nodded, calming somewhat when he smiled and nodded back encouragingly, warmth and affection apparent in his crinkled eyes. He sat back, seemingly satisfied.

"Finish your tea. I have a few things to collect and then I will drop you home. We'll talk more tomorrow, when you've had a decent night's sleep and time to think on what I've said." He instructed; patting her knee and standing before replacing his chair to its proper place. He began to stack the books Willow had pilfered into a tall column, before sweeping the lot into his arms in a practiced manoeuvre and striding the short distance to his office.

Willow lifted the aforementioned drink obediently and wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, taking comfort in the heat and the steadiness of her grip. Giles' movements around his cluttered office kept the silence at bay and were an added comfort – like having the TV on when home alone.

Despite the events of the evening, Willow couldn't deny feeling safe in the Watcher's company, she always had. Thinking back on his actions and words, though mortifying in the extreme and something she would never be repeating in either word or deed, she couldn't help but feel an emerging warmth in his response.

She had messed up, hindsight of course helping her see just how badly. _Gods, what had she been thinking?_ It would have been understandable if Giles had simply expelled her from the library, barring her completely from his books and her inclusion in their unconventional if effective group. Instead he had… well there was a large painful part that she never wanted to think about, let alone experience again, but afterwards had effectively taken her under his wing, promising lessons, direction and protection.

It was an acknowledgment of his care and commitment to all of them, above and beyond his official role as Watcher to the Slayer, and was responsible for the pleasant contentment and security which filled her now – more effectively than the cooling tea between her hands. With emotionally impotent parents who barely acknowledged her existence, it was nice to have someone, a grown-up, who expected, nay demanded, that she toe the line and would notice when she was struggling to do just that.

"Ready for the off?" Giles' question interrupted her quiet introspection and she smiled softly, a little timidly at him as she deposited her empty cup and shouldered her schoolbag. She shuffled over to him, hands disappearing beneath the bib of her dungarees as she waited for him to move.

Giles hesitated, adjusting his own heavy satchel as he looked over the contrite but calm features of the young witch before him.

"Ok?" he queried gently, the simple enquiry encompassing so very much.

Willow shifted, clearly struggling with something, but eventually sighed and looked up at him.

"I just wanted, I… Giles…" She flustered to a stop, her mouth twisting around the words which wouldn't emerge. His hand landing around the curve of her shoulder stilled her.

"Thanks, for stopping me from doing something stupid. T-that's all I wanted to say." It wasn't of course; there were a multitude of words and sentiments bubbling beneath her tongue but it all she was capable of vocalising at that moment and probably all he would be comfortable with hearing.

The lines across his expressive face melted from vague concern to fond amusement. He squeezed the shoulder beneath his palm as he spoke, pulling her into step with him as they walked to the doors.

"You never cease to amaze me, Willow. If nothing else, never stop doing just that." He chuckled, holding the door open for her.

"Umm, I'll try?" she hedged, looking confused and bewildered by his response, which only increased the quirk of his lips as he gazed down at her.

"Just be yourself, Willow. Nothing will please me more." He stated warmly, guiding them both away from the Library and towards their respective homes.

.

.

.

End

.

.

I hope you enjoyed it :) Would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad. A follow-up will be considered if there's enough interest.


End file.
